Hindsight
by randominuyasha
Summary: When a horrible attack renders the demoman almost useless, he tries to prove he can still help out, even with his newly aquired disability. Hilarity ensues.
1. Socket to Him

The BLU demoman quickly glanced across at the enemy fortress. He saw nothing on RED's battlements and assumed that it was safe. Before his feet he laid a single sticky bomb in preparation for his flight.

"Which one o' ya's gunna survive this?"

Without any further hesitation he jumped, detonating the sticky bomb at the ideal moment. He sailed through the air, his aim precise. That is, until an unknown object threw him off. He felt the object enter his body and the next thing he knew he was falling. And then... darkness.

************

The demoman moved slightly as he awoke from his drug-induced sleep. The room was pitch black, but he assumed that was because of what he believed to be a sleep mask strapped to his face. The medic must have outfitted him with it to ensure rest.

Someone must have caught sight of his slight movement for he soon heard footsteps coming toward him. Almost immediately his team's medic was by his side checking his vitals. "Good to see zat you are awake, schweinhund..."

"'Eh, me boyo! Thank ya fer patchen meh up, but I think I'm ready ta git back ou' there," he thanked, as he reached for the sleeping mask.

Before he could remove it from his face the medic slapped his hand away. His voice stern he said, "Zat zniper did quite zee number on you. You are lucky to be alive... zee arrow barely mizzed your brain, dummkopf."

"But it did miss, and I'll be fine once I git mah fix o' wiskey."

"Zat zniper waz dangerous and you barely lived. You vould do well to stay here."

"Ah, I had me good eye on 'im the whole time. No way he'll get meh again."

At that the room went deathly quiet. The demoman wondered what on earth could be wrong. Wanting to see what the medic was up to and what had caused this solemn silence he reached for the mask. This time he wasn't stopped and easily removed it from his face.

He expected to see the all-too-familiar surroundings of his team's main supply room, the one that opened into the wide hallway. Instead he saw nothing. The room was still completely black. It perplexed the demoman but he merely laughed to himself.

"Oh ho ho, very funny lads. Would ya kindly turn on tha light?"

"I am afraid zat zee light eez on, mien friend..."

The demoman was silenced for only a moment or two, panic rising through his body. The silence didn't last long, though, for he soon exploded, "What in tha bloody hell es goin' on here?"

"Zee arrow... eet mizzed your brain, but eet still did some damage... you see, you took quite zee hit to your face. I tried mien hardest, but I vas not able to save your eye... it vas damaged beyond repair..."

"I... but, me eyeball! What am I supposed ta do if I can' see?"

"Do not worry, demoman... I'm sure zere are plenty ov jobs for you out zere... zey just likely von't involve explosive devices..."

::End::

So this is the introduction to my series of mini-stories featuring the Demoman from TF2, because he just doesn't get enough love! I entered this part in a contest and won second place with it, so for that I'm pretty excited, especially since it was really quite difficult to write (on average I write 2000-2500 words in a chapter/short). So I'm pretty proud of that! I won myself a shiny new game on steam, and I can't wait to play it. Anyway, I'm planning this to be nine chapters long to match the classes. What hilarity will the demoman get himself into? You'll have to wait and see!

If you can spot it there's some irony in the Story title and a few of the lines in here. 'Cause irony makes everything better.

And because I can: TF2 (c) Valve


	2. If You Build It

Hindsight Part 2

The demoman couldn't believe his ears. No more explosives? They were the reason he was there, the one reason he was any good at in life aside from drinking himself to a slow death. He'd committed his life to being a demolition expert, and had even given up his left eye in the practice.

"Wha' am ah supposed ta do withou' mah bombs? They're all tha' ah know, lad..." the demoman mumbled sadly, as he hung his head.

"Zat can't be ALL zat you are good at, dummkopf."

"It's all tha' ah've ever done!"

"Vell zen, I suppose you'll have to try something new. I heard zat ze engineer is in need of assistance..."

************

"Hey, boy, gimme a hand here, will ya?" the engineer called, looking to get a bit of help. Although he was slightly sceptical about the arrangements, he was glad to finally have an assistant.

"Alright, me boyo. What d'ya need?" the reluctant demoman replied, trying to sound as enthusiastic and excited about his new job as possible. He failed miserably.

Not long after the medic's suggestion he'd been helped to the intel room, where the engineer was setting up a defensive base.

"I need ya to get me a box of nuts and bolts. This here sentry's almost done, and I just need to put the finishing touches on her."

"You got it, lad."

The demoman got up from his seat behind the desk. Using his hands to feel his way along the wall he made his way to the nearby supply room, where he knew the extra goods were stored.

After a few moments of searching the contents of the room he found an object that he believed to the engineer's compact parts case. Without a second thought he stumbled back to the intel room.

"Here ya go, me boyo!" the demoman announced as he entered the room. The engineer didn't look up from his work, merely giving a grunt of recognition, so the eyeless man decided to try to help out a little more.

Feeling out the sentry he placed the device on top of it. It took him only a few seconds to find what he thought was the unlocking device, a small switch near the top of it. He flicked it in the opposite position, not knowing what he was bringing upon the two of them.

As if he could feel the event happening the engineer stiffened. Someone was messing with his deathly creations.

"Someone's sappin' mah sentry!" he cried out. One look to the demoman and his accidental work and he knew two things. "You blundering idiot! That's not my tool kit... that' a damn electro-sapper!"

"Oh... that's not wha' ah was aiming fer... sorry 'bout dat... ehehe..."

"God damn it, boy, I don't think you realize what this means! The enemy are coming for our intel, and now that you've destroyed my gun..."

Before he could finish his sentence the enemy burst into the room, a RED soldier and his medic. While strategicly launching rockets around the room, removing every obstacle in their path, the soldier cried out victoriously, "This is my world! You are not welcome in my world!"

The demoman, unsure of exactly what was going on aside from the sounds of explosions all around him, turned to run down the hall. A rocket exploded at his feet, propelling him away, and he managed to get to safety as the rest of his team dealt with the threat.

::End of chapter 2::

So, another installment of Hindsight is here! And it looks like the demoman's gotten rid of one of his teams members! Dang, having no eyes sure is a bit of a hinderance on the battlefield! But of course, he's not going to give up!

Don't know when I'll update this again, probably relatively soon. Within two weeks for sure. Either way, stay tuned for more random disasters! I have two more parts done, so it really shouldn't be too long.


	3. Crock Block

"So I hear zat zere vas a mishap wiz zee engineer... you vouldn't know anyzing about zat now, vould you?" the medic asked the demoman, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Not, not a thing. His sentry must o' malfunctioned er somethin'," the demoman lied. He wasn't about to admit that he'd been the one to doom their team's engineer.

The medic sighed and finished patching the man up. Luckily only a few bones in his feet had been broken. The medic was glad; not only was this relatively easy to fix, but the demoman really didn't need another disability in this warzone.

"So what do ya think ah should do now?"

"Ve von't have a replacement engineer for a little while yet... vhy don't you zee if you can be ov assistance to ze soldier?"

************

The RED team was launching another attack, hoping to have another great success like they had the previous day. They might not have been behind the success, but they'd gotten away with the intel either way.

As they marched across the bridge the soldier and demoman stood up on the battlements, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. They were the lead defence against them today, and planned to do some serious damage.

"Alright, let's show these maggots who's in charge here!" the soldier cried, as he prepared for battle.

"Which one o' ya's gunna survive this?" the soldier's newly appointed assistant added for some extra effect. He may have messed up the last time, but he was determined to do good now.

"Ahaha, here they come! Get ready demoman... this could get ugly!" the war veteran laughed, as he sighted the enemies coming closer.

"Aye, lad."

The demoman couldn't see what was going on, but he could hear the action well enough. Within moments the soldier had fired all four of his rockets at the approaching enemies mercilessly. Their foes screamed in pain as they were propelled through the air.

"Ah, didn't quite get 'em as good as I should of... they've got some skill these ones. But that doesn't matter. These fruitcakes don't realize how dead they are. Demoman, load me up four fresh rockets so we can finish this!"

The demoman felt the rocket launcher be set on the ground next to him and immediately went to work. He was ready to go; he sat on the battlements next to the soldier, rockets to his right and gunpowder to his left.

Hastily he stuffed the rockets and gunpowder into the weapon as the soldier whipped out his shotgun, continuing his relentless attack. It was a boring task but he poured the gunpowder in and then stuffed the rockets in after it.

"'Eh, here ya be, lad," the demoman announced, pushing the rocket launcher in the soldier's direction. He heard the soldier take it, firing at the incoming enemies immediately.

All at once a deafening boom filled the area and a rush of air emanated from the soldier. The air became fiercely hot and the demoman scrambled to find some cover.

He wasn't sure what had happened, but he had a nagging feeling that he'd messed up again.

::End part 3::

Nope, I haven't forgotten about the Demoman's hazardous adventures in Hindsight. I've just been busy with everything else lately, and to be quite honest, this is near the bottom of my list. Still working on it, no worries, but slowly.

So yeah... too much gunpowder... I don't know if rocket launchers use gunpowder, but whatever. They do now XD

tf2 (c) Valve


	4. Parting Shot

"Ah, mister demoman... you are lucky to have valked away from zat viz only a few mild burns..." the doctor told him.

"Aye... 'eh, watch where ya put tha thing! Damn thing stings!" his patient complained, pushing the antibiotic away.

"Hold still schweinhund, zis vill only sting for a moment..."

The demoman reluctantly allowed the doctor to finish his work. He knew of an alternate way to make the pain go away, one that involved a mass of alcohol, but this was the medic's job.

"Ve all know zat it vas you."

"Bloody hell..."

"But because ov your... condition, some ov zem are villing to give you anozer change. Ze sniper said zat he could use your help viz something. I will permit you to help him once ve are finished."

************

As the sniper sturdied his rifle on the rock in front of him he checked to make sure he had a good shot while maintaining decent cover. He and the demoman were out in the desert to the right of the BLU fortress, looking to skillfully take down some unsuspecting victims.

Once he was sure this area would suit his needs he turned to the demoman. His voice forceful he threatened, "Listen, mate, you're only here so you don't cause trouble back at the base. If you cost me this shot, so help me I will put a single bullet through your brain. Got it?"

The demoman nodded. He could see that this was no time to argue; the sniper would stick to his word and kill him if he did wrong, no doubt about it.

"Good. Now sit by the rocks over there and be quiet. Not a noise."

The demoman did as he was told, feeling along the ground until he found the rocks the sniper had told him to go to. There he sat as the hours passed. Eventually his boredom got the best of him.

Reaching into the right pouch on his belt he smiled to himself. Times like these made him glad to always keep a bottle of liquefied entertainment with him.

"Aye, that's the stuff..." he sighed, taking a generous sip. He only intended to have a swig or two, but before he knew it the bottle of powerful whiskey was nearly empty.

Completely forgetting about the sniper's threat in his drunken state he wobbled back to the man's position. Carelessly, once he found the Aussie, he launched himself at the man, hanging from his shoulders in a loose hug.

"I... what the hell, mate! I told ya to stay over there!" the man hissed, trying to break free of the demoman's grip.

"Have ah ever told ya tha' ah love ya?"

"WHAT?"

Completely at the mercy of the alcohol running through his veins the demoman stood up quite shakily and yelled at the top of his lungs, "AH AHM IN LOVE WITH THIS SNIPER!"

All at once it seemed like his energy had disappeared, and he slumped back around the confused man's shoulders. He could vaguely hear his breaths but with a bit of a twitch the sniper fell completely silent. After another moment he could feel a trickle of warm liquid on his skin.

"Thankfully ah already dun remember this..."

::End Part 4::

Yessir. They try to take him from the base, and he still manages to cause trouble. Whatever will he have in store for him after this?

You'll have to wait and find out. More random madness, that much I can tell you.

TF2 (c) Valve


	5. Division of Labor

"Oy! Oy, git meh out of here!" the demoman cried out as he stumbled blindly toward the base. Somehow he managed to make it back without being injured more than he already had been in the last few days.

Soon enough he'd made his way into his base (by now to increase proficiency the team had set out a series of strings for him to follow). He called out for the medic and was soon talking with the man of science in a hushed voice.

"The sniper... he's dead!" he told the doctor, his speech slightly slurred.

"He..." the medic muttered. As he disappointingly placed his hand on his forehead he told the demoman, "I have a feeling zat you are to blame for zis, but unfortunately I have no proof... if I did, by god I vould have you shipped out of here."

The demoman stayed silent, strengthening his conviction.

A plan in mind the medic told him strictly, "I vill not allow you to help viz ze front lines any longer. Ve vill find you a job somevhere else... perhaps in ze storage area."

************

"Now, ze spy's stuff is here, ze pyro's is here..." the medic told the blind man as he physically took him to each place and let him feel his surroundings to get a good mental image of where he'd be working.

As the demoman got a feel of each place he said, "Alrighty, me boyo. Five paces to tha spy's things, eleven to tha pyro's, twenty three to tha heavy's..."

To be sure he was memorizing how many steps in each direction it was to each person's things from his chair at the front of the room. Satisfied somewhat, the medic finished showing him where everything was. He said as he left the room, "You had better not mess zis up, mien friend... ve cannot afford any more losses in zis var."

The demoman nodded, staying silent. He intended to do this to the best of his abilities to prove that he wasn't just a useless addition to the team in his current state of health.

It wasn't long before he received his first task, given to him by the spy.

As if he was the king of this fortress the spy burst into the room. He looked in disgust at the demoman, knowing he wouldn't be able to see. He would have rather gotten his own supplies, but he had to admit that this could be a faster method after some practice.

"Gentleman, I need my cloak and dagger, if you please," he said, taking a puff of his cigarette. As the demoman rummaged through the spy's things he continued, "It appearz zat ze enemies have zeen zrough my dead ringer."

"Aye, tha' would be troublesome," the demoman commented. He handed over the watch he'd found without a second thought, happy that he'd completed his first mission.

Without looking at what he'd been given the spy hastily put the watch on his wrist. He was so close to getting his hands on the enemy intel and he wanted to make that a reality as soon as humanly possible.

As he left the room he said to the demoman, "Merci."

::End part 5::

Well, nothing seems to have gone wrong... could he finally have found a job he can do?

TF2 (c) Valve


	6. Fire and Forget

The demoman sat on his chair, waiting patiently for someone to wander through the door. Since the spy had left things had calmed down somewhat. Having nothing better to do while he waited he decided to take a nap. His nap didn't last long, however, for soon after sleep came upon him he got his next request.

"HA HUDDA HA!" the pyro yelled franticly as he burst through the door.

The demoman jolted from his light slumber with a start. Making his way to the pyro's stash he asked, "New propane tank fer ya, eh lad?"

"Mmm!" the pyro confirmed, giving an unseen thumbs-up. He wanted to get back to burninating, but was all out of juice.

Within moments he had the propane tank the demoman had given him hooked up, and was off on his way to again wreak havoc among the other team's ranks.

************

Thinking that the next person to walk into the storage area would have a request the demoman sat at the ready. He'd show them just how fast he could do his job even though he'd only just been assigned to it.

It was the medic that came in before anyone else. "Demoman..."

"Aye, doc! Wha' d'ya need, lad?"

"Demoman, you cannot do zis any longer."

"Bu' why? Ah'm doin' a good job, ain't ah?"

"You may zink so, but... nien. Ze spy und pyro were both found dead recently, not long after they visited you."

"Tha' doesn't make meh the culprit!"

"Ze spy had ze vrong vatch and vas found out. Ze pyro's 'new' tank ov propane vas empty."

"... oh..." he muttered. He'd thought he was doing so well while in reality he'd accidentally been hurting their efforts, even getting two of his teammates killed.

"Ze ozers say zat it vas not your fault, zat you made honest mistakes because of your... disability. I do not agree. Eizer way, you cannot do zis any longer. I've found an easy job for you, one zat even you cannot mess up."

::End Part 6::

Two customers... and then he's fired. If only the medic had gotten to him sooner, maybe the pyro could've been saved. Oh well. These things happen.

What could the easiest job be? You'll have to find out in the next installment!

TF2 (c) Valve


	7. Caught Napping

"An easy job, eh?"

"Ja. You vill be scout's... how you say... butler. You vill stay here in ze base and serve him vhen he vants, no exceptions."

The demoman's shoulders sunk. He really had gotten himself into a real low. In shame he hung his head. Having nothing else to say he muttered, "Well... ah, might as well git started on tha'..."

************

"An'... an' that's tha time ah wrestled with a crocodile in outer space!" the demoman laughed, holding up his bottle of booze happily.

"Yeah, right... whatever, man. All I wanted was a can of BONK... if you can't handle that, I'll do it myself," the scout mumbled angrily, glaring at his servant. He'd merely asked for his energy drink but had instead gotten an obviously fake and drunken story.

"Baw, no sense o' humour on ya, lad!" the demoman chuckled, "Ah'll beh right back with yer stupid drink."

He stumbled to the fridge, fumbling through its contents until he found the energy drink. Sneakily he opened it, pouring about a fourth of it down the drain. To replace the lost liquid he filled it up with what he was drinking, some of his hardest liquor.

He wanted to show the scout a good time, and this was how he'd do it.

Upon returning to the waiting scout he handed over the can and said, "'ere lad. Ah even opened it up for you, me boyo."

The scout took the can, withholding even a simple 'thank you' and chugged the drink. He was worn out from a morning of batting heads and wanted a major energy boost before he went back out there.

"Yer welcome," the demoman chuckled, waiting to see (or rather hear) the effects of his modified drink. He hoped that the scout would make a cheerful drunk.

"What... what is this crap?" the scout complained when he was done, a sour look on his face. Even then he could tell that something beside the taste was seriously wrong.

"Somethin' special. Ya need ta loosen up a bit, lad," the drunkard smiled.

As the drink flowed through his system he could feel its effects. First he became dizzy before mellowing out. Before too long he was lying on the floor limply. He could barely move. Though the demoman didn't realize it in his drunken state, something was terribly wrong.

"You dumbass..." the scout whispered with his last breath, glaring at his unknowing killer.

::End part 7::

Remember kids, never mix hard liquor and BONK!

Yup. He messed it up. Whatever will he do now?

TF2 (c) Valve


	8. Rationing

"It appears zat he overdosed on somezing... ze boy's body could not handle it," the medic explained, "You vouldn't happen to know vhy, vould you, demoman?"

"Tha boy wanted 'is energy drink. Ah told him no, but he had tha thing anyway. He must'a had too much this time," the black man lied. He remembered a bit about the previous night, but he didn't remember the scout collapsing.

"Ze boy vas addicted to zose..." he agreed, "But I do not believe you. You had somezing to do viz zis, I know it. But I do not have any proof, so..."

"One more chance, lad. Just gimme one more chance to prove this ta ya. Ah can do it, ah can live up to yer expectations, ah tell ya."

"Fine, dummkopf... one last chance, and zen zat is it," the medic sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he knew that this couldn't end well.

************

"Stupid heavy wants 'is sandwich..." the demoman mumbled, as he felt around the supply room for the spice cabinet.

He'd volunteered to help the heavy out with whatever he needed as a last ditch attempt to save his skin, but he hadn't realized that he'd end up being the man's personal chef.

"Well, aht least ah can't screw this one up. Ah, here it is," he said to himself, as he pulled open the cabinet he'd finally found. At random he chose one of the bottles. The heavy would have to deal with a surprise spice on his sandwich today, he decided.

Satisfied with his plan he headed back to the kitchen unit and finished making the heavy's meal. "Come an' git it, ya big oaf!"

Upon hearing that his sustenance had been prepared the heavy weapons guy lumbered over and sat down at the table. He eagerly waited for the demoman to serve him, and soon had a plate full of sandwich placed in front of him for him to devour.

"Me and my sandvich! Ahahahaha!" he sang before taking a monstrous bite.

He eagerly chewed a few times and swallowed. All at once he began to choke. The demoman thought nothing of it, assuming he'd merely bitten off a little more than he could swallow at once, but soon the room went completely silent.

That's when the demoman began to worry. "Was tha lad allergic ta somethin' in there?"

::end part 8::

Heavy bit off a little more than he could chew... or did he?

Stay tuned for the stunning conclusion to this crazy fic!

TF2 (c) Valve


	9. Peer Review

"Dummkopf!" the medic exploded once the demoman was seated in a solitary chair in the middle of the room, "You are a complete dummkopf!"

"Wha' did ah do, doc?"

"What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?!" He placed a hand over his forehead and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. Regardless, he could feel his temperature rising.

"What' is it? Wha's wrong?" the demoman asked when he heard silence as a response.

"Zey didn't listen to me... zey're all dead... all ov zem, gone..." he moaned. All at once he felt his temper rise again and hissed, "Und you are ze one zat killed zem! All ov zem, done in by ze likes ov a blind drunken fool!"

The demoman wracked his brain for something to say, "Ah dun know wha' yer talking about..."

"Like hell, schweinehund! Ze scout had alcohol in his system, und he doesn't drink. Ze heavy died from a large dose ov arsenic on his sandvich. Ze others too, all your doing. I knew it all along but I couldn't get zem to believe me... couldn't bring myself to fully believe it, but... it vas you! IT VAS ALL YOUR DOING!"

In his rage he slammed his fist down on a nearby table. Seconds later he held in a sharp gasp. He hadn't realized that his autopsy equipment had been on that table, and now found himself with a deep cut along the length of his right arm.

"Oy, you awright, doc?" the demoman asked when he heard the medic's hushed groans of pain. When the doctor didn't reply he jumped from his chair and rushed to where the doctor kept his medicines. It was times like this that he was glad he'd memorized a mental image of the fortress.

Out of the corner of his eye the doctor saw him move. Knowing that no good could come of the man's mobility he momentarily forgot about his pain. He uttered in a slightly defensive way, "Vhat are you doing?"

"Dun worry, doc! Ah'll help ya!"

"Nien, I don't vant any ov your assistance!"

Whether he wanted it or not, the demoman was going to 'help' him. Before he knew it the demoman was up in his face and an empty needle was hanging limply from the skin of his arm. He looked at the label on the small containment chamber and instantly knew he was done for.

"Dummkopf," he mumbled darkly, "Zatr vas ze drug I put in my syringe gun, a dose zree times ze amount I put in zem... I vas saving it in case ve got an intruder in ze base..."

The demoman went silent.

"You have killed us all... und before ze new recruits arrive und take pity on you like everyone here did, I vill make sure zat is not a possibility."

From beneath the pillow of his nearby cot he drew his emergency bonesaw, soon charging at his killer. It was an easy kill and several times the weapon entered the demoman's body. Soon he was lying dead on the floor, the medic laying beside him on his own deathbed. It was over. This demoman would do no more harm.

::end part 9::

There you have it, the conclusion to this wacky and random fanfiction.

Tf2 (c) Valve


End file.
